Victory bringer
by Kazura
Summary: Is it not for the better that he no longer calls for her aid? Is it not a sign that he has become a true hero, one who does not need to constantly rely on the help of one who has been glorified as a goddess of the battlefield?


**Victory-bringer**  
Disgaea, Almaz von Almandine Adamant © NIS

* * *

She sits under the shade of a tree, unlike the one her legends speak of, and everything around her seems to sing of peace, unlike the songs she used to bask in. On either side of her rested a lance and a shield, both unused, both seemingly unneeded, but still cherished, still carefully treasured. In her calloused hands, now free of their battle-worn gauntlets, she holds a mug of warm coffee.

She furrows her brow before taking a sip. It's just right, she decides, as she rests the rim of the mug against her lips. She holds it like that for a while. She then proceeds to gulp it all down, and it still burns her tongue, but she pays it no mind, for she had suffered worse in battle, and something as trivial as this should not bother her at all.

Silently, she waits for that call, that pull, which would bring her back, if only for a few moments, to battle once more. With the now empty mug resting on the ground, she places a hand over the shaft of her lance, fingers not curling around it, but simply there, ready to do so in response to a familiar summoning.

Nothing, she realizes, she accepts. Reluctantly.

She shakes her head. Is it not for the better that he no longer calls for her aid? Is it not a sign that he has become a true hero, one who does not need to constantly rely on the help of one who has been glorified as a goddess of the battlefield?

With a frown, she asks herself, has she grown fond of the boy?

How amusing, she thinks, but perhaps such is the case.

Why not simply gaze down and see what has become of him? They ask her this so many times that she has already lost count, and, while she is indeed tempted to do so, she refuses to. Simply knowing that he is still alive should be enough, should it not?

Then if so, why has she not accepted the task of once again answering the calls of those who wish to make a contract with her? Is she still clinging to the hope that, one day, he will once again ask for her assistance, despite the fact that he has not done so for years now?

It is almost a decade in his world, she realizes, and she should not really pay attention to that. No, she should not. After all, time means nothing in the realm she currently resides in, for she has become a keeper, a so-called goddess, and she is expected to do her duties as such.

With hardened features, she reduces her lance and her shield to mana, withdrawing their costs and depositing them back into her reservoir. Wordlessly, soundlessly, she picks up her mug, and she makes her way back towards the direction of her home.

At least, she meant to do just that.

Late, she would like to say, but she says nothing as she allows a part of herself to be whisked away, a part given form by that familiar, soothing mana, and she stands by his side once again.

"I'm sorry!" he then blurts out, and she raises an eyebrow at his sudden apology. Is he asking for forgiveness for the sorry state that he is in? Truly, it is a wonder how he had enough mana to summon her at all with his pitifully battered state.

Then again, her avatar is smaller this time, so perhaps he barely had enough to spare.

He waves a hand, the one not holding his sword, and he repeats, "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry, Lady Sigrdrífa. I know I haven't summoned you for a long time, and now… I just… A little help, please?"

He is not alone, she sees, for he is with a child, with eyes like his and…

Ah, so that is what it is.

She still, however, cannot grasp the reason as to why he finds the need to apologize that much. That is, until she follows his gaze, which is directed towards the mug she holds in her hand.

She smiles at him, and says as she turns the mug upside-down, "It is empty." For a second, she nearly calls him, once again, little hero. However, he is no longer little, and she settles for his name instead. "I've had my coffee, Almaz."

He blinks at that, but she, with lance and shield grasped firmly (for she had placed the mug down), turns around and faces his enemies. "Are these the ones I must defeat?" she asks, and lightning surrounds her once more.

She cannot see his face, but she knows from the tone of his voice that he has donned a serious expression again. "If it's not too much to ask."

She nods. "Very well."

He begins to thank her, but she cuts him off. "Almaz von Almandine Adamant."

"Y-yes?" he stutters, and her eyes briefly reflect her amusement.

"Feel free to summon me once again."

"But," he tries, and she repeats.

"Feel free to do so, hero."

"A-all right," he then says.

Sigrdrífa nods, she hums, and she charges forward.

* * *

**A/N**: Sigrdrífa is the name that I have given to Almaz's "goddess." Yes, the Valkyrie that he summons for "Help Me Goddess." Criticism is most welcome.


End file.
